


I Wanna See Your Animal Side

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Hitman!Cas, Hitman!Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 19:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7451047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is an assassin for one of the most important people in his hometown, but a bloody life leads to bloody consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna See Your Animal Side

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song Death Valley by Fall Out Boy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dX50r4WRmRw)

_‘Cause we are alive, here in Death Valley,_  
But don’t take love off the table yet,  
‘Cause tonight it’s just fire and losing,  
Losing you,  
We love a lot so only lose a little,  
But we are alive.  
\- Death Valley // Fall Out Boy 

Dean Winchester was hired to put a bullet directly between Alistair’s eyes. That was his job for today. He would be paid. There was blood all over his hands.

His boss, a man named Michael who ran half the city, had a personal vendetta against Alistair, and put a high amount of stock in Dean’s abilities as a hitman. 

After all, Alistair had taught him everything he knew.

The job was cut and dry. Alistair had known Dean was coming, but his overconfidence had ultimately been his downfall. Dean had learnt, over decades of experiencing Alistair’s work, that Alistair’s self-righteousness was his biggest flaw, the kind that could get a man killed. He was right, after all, he was an infinitely better hitman than Alistair could have possibly fathomed.

And so, Dean waltzed straight to the front door, incapacitated the two guards in his path, walked directly to Alistair’s demented workshop and placed the barrel of his gun between Alistair’s eyes.

“Any last words?” Normally he wouldn’t bother, but he was feeling a little sentimental.

Alistair had crooked a smile. “Good boy.” And Dean had shot him.

This was a cut and dry job.

Until a gun cocked somewhere near the small of his back.

“Your boss is dead, chump, save your bullets,” Dean had stated.

“I’m not here for him, Dean, I’m here for you,” the deep voice of the man holding the gun replied, “maybe you should face me, or I might kill the wrong guy.”

“Oh honey I don’t play that way,” Dean had replied, more a distraction than anything, as he swung around, grasping the barrel of his assailant’s gun and aiming it away from him before the man shot. Then, in a feat of practiced grace, his gun was drawn from his jeans, and the two found themselves aiming bullets at each other’s brains. Dean’s hands burned.

“Dean Winchester. They told me you’d be trouble,” the attacker stated, “lucky for you, I’m damn good at my job.”

Dean had the opportunity to look at him now. He was an inch or two shorter than Dean himself. He’d gone for the formal attire, a black suit and sensible shoes stark contrast to Dean’s choice of black t-shirt, ripped and bloodied jeans and boots. Some killers were just fancier.

“What, you’re allowed to know my name but I can’t know yours?” Dean quipped.

“I suppose you’re only going to die.”

“Give me a little credit, sweetheart, I got this far.” He smirked.

“Castiel.”

Dean tipped his head. “Huh.” Everyone in this business knew of him, Castiel, so notorious and well-hidden he’d earned himself the moniker ‘The Invisible Angel’. Nobody knew who he worked for, or when he would strike, but he always left no traces besides a symbol scratched into the walls and floors next to the bodies he left behind. “I must be awesome.”

“Not the word I would’ve used.”

“Hey!” Dean objected, “who wants me dead anyway?”

“My boss is a very well-off man, he is observant, he knows what happens in this town, where others are less… knowledgeable. Especially when it comes to his own men. Especially those with ulterior motives, Dean.”

It was like a lightbulb switching on in Dean’s head. “Michael sent you here to kill me? This was a set up?”

“No. Michael sent me here to get information, then kill you,” Castiel replied.

“If he needed information he didn’t have to attempt murder!” Dean screamed, “I work for the man, for fuck’s sake!”

“You would never have told him this.”

_“Try me you heartless bastard.”_

“Where’s your brother, Dean?”

Dean froze. _Oh_ , he thought, _now I understand_. Dean’s brother, Sam, was far away from this town, studying at Stanford University to become a lawyer, living a normal life far misplaced from all the death and deceit he grew up surrounded by. Once, when they had been children, he had had the potential to be a great hitman too, because their father was mad and trained his children like soldiers, but Sam was always strong enough to go his own way and he’d never been happier than once he finally moved away.

The story that had spread was that Sam was with their father when John was killed by a strategist named Azazel, and Azazel would have never left any survivors. Little did they know that by then, Sam was already on his way out of the life, safe and sound.

Of course, Dean had no intention of letting Michael get hold of any of this information.

“He’s dead.” Dean replied, “He died three years ago, try to keep up.”

“Now Dean,” Castiel smirked minutely, “We both know that’s not quite true.”

Dean was getting desperate. He’d never cared about anything in his life as much he cared about Sam’s safety. “I will kill you if you so much as touch him, you understand? He has no business here. He’s not in this line of work, he has nothing to give to this cause. For God’s sake, you fuck, he’s my little brother.”

“He’s a threat. He’s an abomination.”

“ _He’s a kid, for fuck’s sake,_ ” he was livid by this point, and his hand had begun shaking.

“He’s a part of Lucifer’s regime. He’s a prodigy. He cannot live,” Castiel recited like he was reading from a script.

“No! No, he’s not part of anything! He’d rather lose all his teeth than become a part of anyone’s regime, you asshole! You’ve never met the man, how would you know anything about his life?”

Castiel looked genuinely confused somewhere under the steely, practised expression he’d been wearing since he walked into the room. His gun almost fell before he tightened his grip. “Your lies don’t match my intel.”

“You’re gonna trust intel from a man that has his own employees killed?”

Castiel was wavering.

“My little brother has nothing to do with any of this, okay?” Dean began, calmer, “He called me yesterday. He left the life and made a new one for himself where he’d never have to be a part of this again. He’s just a kid, Castiel.”

“How do I know I can I trust you?” Castiel looked like he was about to snap and drop the gun.

“My brother is the most important thing in my life,” Dean tried, bordering on desperate, and Castiel must have been able to tell that he was being genuine because all the steadfast determination to shoot had left his eyes and posture.

“I want to know what’s happening, so we’re both going to drop our guns at the count of three and discuss this.” Castiel breathed. “One… two… three.” And by some miracle, both dropped their guns; nobody was shot.

“Tell me what you know,” Dean demanded.

This brought them to now.

They had established that Sam had no intention to become part of any of the groups currently controlling the city, and in putting pieces together, they discovered that Michael and Lucifer, the leader of Michael’s opposition, were planning to go to war, with Sam as Lucifer’s chief killer. They couldn’t definitively say who should lead Michael’s army but Dean had a sneaking suspicion that it would be him.

“I think this mission was a hoax.” Castiel inclined.

“Thanks for that, genius.”

“No, I mean from my end as well,” he clarified, “I believe that I was not hired by Michael but Lucifer, and his intention was to kill you, thereby eliminating his main enemy, and find Sam, solidifying Sam’s position in the upcoming war by convincing him that Michael had had you killed. I think he wanted Sam to want to take revenge.”

Dean was dumbstruck. “That bastard.”

“We cannot let this war come to pass, it would cause devastation. These two men control everything between them, their fighting would cause this entire city to crumble.”

“We can’t involve Sammy, no matter what,” Dean insisted, “So time to cook up a plan.”

Castiel was deep in thought for a few minutes, looking to all the world like he was trying to solve a crossword, not pre-empt an impending war. He hummed and spoke, “we are hitmen, are we not?”

“Yes,” Dean replied.

“Then let’s do what we do best.” Castiel was determined, standing from his seat next to one of Alistair’s benches, “let’s kill them.”

 

“Ah Castiel, I trust the deed is done,” a man in casual dress spoke, blond hair messy as though he’d run his hands through it all day in stress, yet he exuded a calm and collectedness.

“Nick,” Castiel greeted. “tell Michael that I will accept no more of his assignments.”

“But have you completed this task, Castiel?” Nick demanded.

“Yes,” he gritted out, impatient.

“Very well,” he conceded.

“My letter of resignation.” Castiel stepped towards Nick’s desk with an A4 envelope between his fingers. It was placed carefully on the table, atop a pile of Nick’s unfinished paperwork.

“I will see to it promptly.”

“Goodbye. Pray you do not see me again,” were his parting words as he left.

 

“Dean,” Michael started as Dean hung his jacket on the stand by the door, “It is good to see that you arrived in a fit state.”

“Yeah, well, I’m damn good at my job,” Dean returned, smiling forcefully. He took a seat at one of chairs by Michael’s desk. All the chairs, tables and floors in Michael’s establishment were pristine, clean and tidy, as a reflection of how Michael himself liked his empire to function.

“That’s good to hear, as I’m sure we’ll be needing your expertise in the future.”  
Dean almost laughed at the irony as he replied, “nice to know my job is secure.”

“Here is your payment,” Michael glanced at his desk to find an envelope full of cash and handed it towards Dean, who readily took it.

“I have no new assignments for you. You’re free to go,” Michael dismissed, becoming quickly engrossed in more paperwork and waving a hand to the door as Dean’s queue to leave.

“Have a good one.” The words are full of mirth. Dean leaves, without taking his jacket as he goes.

 

Dean and Castiel met across town, somewhere far from both leaders’ offices. They meet in a coffee shop, looking for all the world like two friends meeting.

“How’d it go?” Dean asked, hand wrapped around the mug of coffee he had ordered.

“I left a letter of resignation, you?”

“Oh that’s good. I left my jacket behind,” Dean was practically giddy.

“Do you think they’ve noticed?” Cas peered from behind a cup of honey tea.

“Nah, Michael’s too busy, and the moron doesn’t keep guards in his office, just outside.”

“I have always thought that was rather presumptuous of him.”Cas’ fingers tapped against the mug.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Dean smirked, lifting a button from his pocket, “you ready to do this?”

Cas produced an identical button. “More than ready. On three?”

“How romantic, just like our first date,” Dean joked.

“Moron,” Cas laughed. “One… two… three.”

They pressed the buttons at the same time, and two loud explosions were heard from opposite ends of the city. They smiled at each other.

“We should do this more often.”

“Maybe later, now we should be acting like terrified citizens and running,” Cas countered.

“Good point,” Dean smiled. “Time to be invisible, angel.” 

Dean grabbed Cas’ hand and tugged them both outside to point and yell about the explosions as they covertly made their getaway to Dean’s car, parked two blocks down. They dodged reporters and pedestrians like professionals because, while maybe they were no longer employed, they were both pretty damn good at their jobs.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are like endless warm blankets.


End file.
